Thursday, Oct. 20, 2011
When I really get into a story (whether it's through a T.V. show, a book, or a movie), and I mean REALLY get into it, the story completely absorbs my mind. My mind starts narrating its own version of the story. My mind relives it, through my all-comsuming imagination. My mind is breathing it. It's like the story has hijacked my mind for about an hour or two (or three!). I like a story that covers all its bases. My mind will look at all angles of the story, and I am able to envision this world, even when it's just for pure entertainment. It goes beyond developing a good plot. Even when the story has fantastical characters, if there is something human about the character, something that helps me to understand the character's mind, I'm hooked. It's even better when that human element is complex, making the character not always easy to figure out. For me, this is just some of the stuff that makes a great story.
I enjoy the journey, where the story takes me. Many ups and downs for character/s, personal and otherwise. I like a story with tough choices to make. Through events and circumstances, choices that aren't easy. With no true right or wrong answers. And when the choices are made, those choices lead the story.
It's tough to write a story with depth, substance. A story that shows the values in choices, and choice in values. A character that tells something about the human story. These characters could or could not be relatable to my own life, but as part of the human experience, I understand the character's story on some level. They may make choices that I probably would never do, but I can see the human in the character.
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Tuesday, Oct. 11, 2001
Junior high school. I barely remember it. But what's there to remember? What's worth remembering about it? I had another dream that involved characters from my past. I don't remember the details anymore. I just remember the dream brought three characters, that I wouldn't normally associate together, together. Weird. Maybe they really knew each other, or not. How does it matter? Everybody's fake in junior high school.
So, anyways, afterwards I had another dream. Basically, my dream came up with its own storyline. My dream used characters that I know from T.V. shows I watch, but I feel that they don't really need to be specifically these characters. Like a comic book, my mind is showing me stories. Kind of fascinating, really.
It was about a girl who saves the world on a daily basis. The dream showed me how this person keeps up with this fight to save the world, over and over again. Love. The answer is love. She has gone through life loving different kinds of people, during different times in her life, has been through many different kinds of relationships. It's the fact that she knows how to love. She knows love exists. That's what keeps her going. That's what keeps her in the fight to constantly save the world. She knows what she's fighting for. It's what makes her a believer in human life.
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Mr. Brightside by The Killers
Something about this song just makes my heart sing. Probably because, when I hear it, I remember feel-good and not-so-feel-good emotions. My whole heart sings. There's no one-sidedness to where the song takes me. It's a beautiful song, and when I hear it, I feel sad; letting go, being positive, being happy, moving on. Whether I've fully accomplished any of those things or not, my soul is singing and dancing to this music. Funny thing is, it's sung by a guy, and the song makes me think of letting go of a guy. But I guess it's the way he's singing it, the fact that I can feel it. I feel every word that's sung. The song is where I want to be. Or maybe it's where I've been, and the song just reminds me of it. Well, anyways, it's probably the only good thing I've heard my neighbor blast from within his walls since I've moved in to this apartment.
"My Neighbor's Self-Concert" Review # 81
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Friday, Oct. 7, 2011
I don't have any problems with telling the truth. Anybody whose done it knows that it is refreshing. Sure, I've had moments of denial. There are times when truth is hard to look in the face. But I don't run from it. And neither should you. There you are, pretending that everything in your life is happy, and that you're as cool as a cucumber. But I've seen your insecurities, and you're not fooling me. All I see is someone who is afraid to be authentic. Someone who doesn't have any beliefs. Someone who isn't brave enough to stand for something, anything. I'm sickened just by watching you work. How fake you are. It's disgusting. You disgust me. Whenever I challenge you and where you stand, I sense fear in you. You're threatened. You can't handle the truth. You're weak in my eyes. When I'm asking just for the slightest sliver of honesty, you can't give it to me. You're a coward. I would respect you so much more if you were just a bit braver, more ballsy than you are. But you're not, so I don't. I don't respect you as a person. I can tell that just by hanging around you is contaminating. You try to spread your disease of insecurity to others, so you feel better about yourself. How can I respect someone like that? It's not even worth it to hang around you. You are the "poster child" of what I would never want to become. Your being and livlyhood stinks, and I hope I never see you again for the rest of my life.
